Only Words
by Stronger than Words
Summary: A love story about a hopelessly devoted guy who is in love with a girl who's name he doesn't even know. Bare in mine these are just drafts as one can never finish a story.


He stared at her. Longingly. He wanted her to notice him. He had to make her notice. But how could he?

She kept on reading. She was far, far away in a distant dimension created only by the words so astutely typed across the pages of which ever book she was devouring today. The words became sentences and the sentences became paragraphs. He wanted those words to reflect to her what he was feeling. He knew they wouldn't, they were only words. Every day for the past two years he sat here, and she there, on the bus towards home, yet he never said anything. They were the last two to get off the bus, but different stops. His neighborhood was right before hers. How he wished she would stretch out her long, luscious legs to the effect he'd have an excuse as to talk to her. A meager "excuse me" would be an improvement. Perhaps she would reply and he could hear her voice for the first time. He had to. Time was running out.

"Hey man! What's new in the hood?" His brother asked as he entered their run down, mediocre home. He could just imagine waiting on the bus with her and claiming to have missed his stop. By chance she would invite him in and let him use her phone to call his brother. But that wouldn't work and he knew it. It would be too obvious. "Yo, little bro? I'm only back for another week." His brother reminded him.

"Oh sorry Sean, I was…thinking." He told his older brother. His brother was in college and they started a week later than the High School. It was the next week that would call Sean away to the bigger world of higher education.

"Dude, it's only the first week, you can't be getting Senioridice already." Sean was of course referring to that feeling that you just want to be done with High School. Sean had already gone through that and he thought he knew all about what his little brother was feeling. But alas, he had no idea. Sean had never loved anyone as he does. "It's either that or a new girl…" Or perhaps maybe he wasn't as dull as he appeared.

He sighed. "No, it's not a new one, the same one. She's the only one for me." Of course Sean knew about her. He had been thinking about her for the past two years. Two lonely, longing years. Years of which he could only dreamed of her.

"Oh come on man, really? It's been like, forever. You still watch her on the bus every day? That's getting a little stalkerish, bro."

"Is not! I _love_ her, Sean!" With that final, fierce comment he stormed off to his room to get started on his homework.

Later he was on instant messenger with a few other friends. They were all trying to set him up with a cute red head in his calculus class. He, of course, was reminding them of her. She was the only one for him. They weren't listening at all. It was frustrating him to the point of signing off. Just as he was about to, his lifelong friend signed on. Thank God, he would understand. He always did. He always will. On the monitor their conversation played out.

You: Hey man…whats up?

Chris: not much….u?

You: sigh…its her again

Chris: isn't it always?

You: yeah I guess it is.

Chris: you talked to her yet?

You: I wish…what would I say?

Chris: just a thought here, but what about "hi"?

You: gee, I hope you didn't strain any brain cells coming up with that one

Chris: (:

You: idk, maybe tomorrow

Chris: by the end of the week you are going to talk to her. Or move on. Your pick.

You: so if I don't talk to her in the next 3 days I lose your support?

Chris: yup. I g2g now. Think wisely. Bye.

You: sigh…bye.

With that "bye" he signed off. He didn't want to try to convince his other friends that she was the only one for him. They just wouldn't understand. Besides, he had to plan. If he lost Chris's support he'd have no one. Sean made his side of the argument very clear this afternoon. His mom didn't know anything. All his friends were against him. All except Chris, he was always there for him and always would be. As these thoughts went through his head, he got ready for bed. Hopefully a plan would come to him as if a vision in a dream. Much the same as Joseph received to save not only his life, but also his love's and their son.

In the morning he got up and dressed much the same as any other day. He was sure he hadn't had a dream, but he convinced himself otherwise. A plan had surely formed in his mind and he would put it to good use. It would happen on the bus, it was brilliant in a way nothing else ever had been. It was how he would not only bring her to reality, but also allow him (hopefully) into her refuge of words.

He longed for the final bell to ring. He willed the bell to ring. With all of his mind power he begged the clock hands to go just a little faster. Then a thought occurred to him, "What if she doesn't like me?" This had the potential to ultimately destroy him. This was the sole reason he had never talked to her. He loved her. As long as the earth still turned, that would be enough for him. So why talk now? Chris. It was all him. If he hadn't threatened his retrieval of endless support, then there would be no risk. She probably didn't love him. She probably doesn't even like him. She probably thinks, much to Sean's suggestion, that he was weird and that he does stare at her. He does, but he always had the excuse he was staring out the window. That would make no difference to her. She would reject any opportunity of conversation. She would just retreat to her story where if life didn't make sense all she had to do was turn the page. In the middle of this thought the bell shattered his ideas. It was time.

His palms were sweaty. His heart was racing. His stomach felt unfamiliar in his body. He wondered if this is what suicide bombers felt like before they initiated the bomb that would ultimately destroy them. In many ways it was similar to his own situation. By breaking down her barrier of story he would not only welcome the pain of being destroyed, such as a bomb going off, but also just be awaiting the coming rejection. If the bomb was defective then he'd be safe but also ridiculed on the inside. Things would still be at a standstill as they had for the past two years. There was no way he could let himself take this risk. This was all because of Chris. Because of Chris he was about to talk to the girl of his dreams for the first time. Yes, he had to. Time for the plan he'd been evaluating over and over again all day long.

She was sitting there, in her regular spot. Book in hand, pencil behind her ear. Almost teasing him to reach out and take it, just to have been so close to her face, her skin, her. Even Romeo had felt like this. Wishing he was but a glove upon the hand of Juliet. As if reading his mind she took the pencil from its resting place and started scribbling in the margin of her book. It looked as if she was circling something. This was his chance. The chance he had been waiting for all day. Could he really do it? He had to. But what if his voice box had silently imploded on itself? What if he had rendered himself incapable of speech because of all the pressure? What if…what if…what if? Only one way to find out.

"Sticky note?" asked a shaky voice he immediately regretted identified as his own.

She looked up. "Me? Oh, no thanks." She replied in a voice that angels envied. He wished he could just bottle up the waves of her sound and store it away. It had worked. She had spoken to him. He could retreat; Chris would have to be behind him all the way now.

He noticed she was still looking at him. A mixture of confusion, suspicion, and wonder clouded her eyes. Such beautiful eyes they were. Big, bold, brown eyes that just peered deep into his very soul were watching him. They matched her hair. He suddenly realized she was waiting to see if he'd say something else. She was giving him a chance! She hadn't hid behind her book once she met the polite requirements.

"Just wondering, I noticed you were circling something in your book. I prefer not to write in books, it just doesn't feel right." He said before he realized it sounded like he was putting down her whole system of reading. The system of which he watched everyday on the bus in a loving and compassionate way was what he had just challenged.

"A lot of people tell me that. The way I see it, books speak to us. So why not speak back? Beyond that, when we pass from this Earth, if someone finds our copies of books they are forever altered, thus immortalizing us." Her words were like medicine for him. Oh which disease was unknown, but he needed them. There was no turning back now. She was offering a line in which to start a deep conversation.

"That's interesting. If you believe that, how do you feel about when Hitler burned all the books in Germany?" He was trying so hard to impress her. He had to make her think highly of him.

"I think that's the biggest crime he committed." This was good, if he keeps her talking then it could lead to something more. He had not planned on this. He had a sudden realization. He was in deep now, one wrong move and she'd shut down forever. He had not expected her to start a conversation. This was uncharted territory. He had to get out now.

"That's different then most the world. To most people the genocide is the biggest sin against man." He stated.

"Well when you burn books you not only burn the words, but also the ideas. You are basically burning everything from within a person. This person has most likely already died, so you're killing them again. And again and again, page by page, word by word. It's not only words." She said. He admired how passionate she could get. He only wished she'd feel for him as she feels for the written word.

"So that's why you read every day? You try to soak up as much information as possible in case something else happens? For if someone has read the book before burning it then the ideas and words and feelings are still alive somewhere." He wanted to show her he wouldn't just back down. That, and he just couldn't resist a good debate. He was in uncharted territory and knew he had to get out. Not before expressing his opinions, though.

"You could say that. You could say books are all I have. You could say a lot of things. But if you just say them then your words will be twisted by society and true meaning will be lost. If they are written down then you will never have any shadow of a doubt that that is what you felt and thought."

He was thrown for a loop. She was staring at him with the simplest expression on her face. Anticipation. That's what she was doing. She was anticipating his next statement. He didn't know what to say, this wasn't a topic he often contemplated. He quickly wracked his brain for some relevant point to bring up, something that would make any sort of sense and would offer an end to this conversation before he did something he shouldn't. He had an idea.

"Have you ever read Fahrenheit 451? I bet you'd identify with the homeless people."

And there is was. That look that turned from anticipation to pure ice. He had said something that offended her. Now that he thought of, it he knew what it must have been. That was a book for an 8th grade reading level. She was probably passed college reading. It was such a rudimentary piece of literature. Of course she's read it. Why had he been that stupid?

"As a matter of fact, that's what I'm re reading right now. If you don't mind I'd like to finish it soon." Her words were the equivalent of pure hatred. She was talking to him as he imagined she'd talk to Hitler, himself. Was it just him or had she stressed "re reading" with particular emphasis?

"Sorry," was all he could mutter from a mix of deep despair, utter sadness, and embarrassment.

After the conversation he knew better than to stare at her for the remainder of the ride. He rotated his body so he was sitting the proper way on the bus. He stared out his own window. His own thoughts filled his head. His own voice quietly chastised himself for being so stupid. Did he really believe in happy ever after? The bomb had gone off despite the hope that his analogy would be off the mark.

The bus rolled up to his stop. Without even looking at her he walked off. He was the only one to get off. He didn't stop in the kitchen where Sean was waiting for him. He couldn't deal with his brother today. He went straight up to his computer and logged on instant messenger. No luck, Chris wasn't on, but why would he be? It was only 3:30. Chris usually didn't log on until 6 or 7 o clock. He looked around his cluttered room. He had blown it. What could he do? There was nothing for him anymore. He turned back to the computer and opened a new document. He wrote down everything said in the exchange so as to not forget it. He couldn't ever forget. If he remembered her words he would remember her voice. How passionately she spoke, how valued she counted her opinions. By the time he had read over the conversation more than enough times it was 5:00. It's Wednesday so he had to get to swim practice by 5:30. He quickly changed and then grabbed his favorite baseball cap. It was a New York Yankees cap. He hated the team with all his heart and that's what possessed him to keep the hat. It was the last gift that Chris, an ultimate fan, had given him before he moved to Florida.

The beat up Ford rolled down his driveway. All summer he and Sean had shared it. If he had wanted to he could have driven it to school for the first week since Sean didn't leave the house. That would mean he wouldn't get to ride the bus home. What would he gain? 45 minutes of sleep in the morning? Well less rest was a small price to pay to see her every day.

On his way to swim practice he had to pass the public library. He always did. That way was longer but the only other way to go was to cut through the rich neighborhood next to his. That had to be where she lived. It was the only neighborhood still within the school's zoning area. He couldn't cut through. What if her house had a tree? What if she was sitting under that tree? What if she saw him drive by? Too many "what ifs" for him, he would just go the other way. He couldn't see her yet.

As he passed the public library he couldn't believe his eyes. It was her. She had books scattered about her. She was kneeling on the ground, collecting all she could. She looked scared. That look on her face…before he realized it, he pulled the car into the parking lot. He got out and ran to her. Pages were ripped out of her books. Some had her writing on them and some didn't. She had her back toward him when he ran up.

"Are you okay?" He asked. He was too startled and worried to care about how she must hate him now.

She shrieked first, and then turned, still on the ground. As soon she recognized she had a range of emotion. It started at relief, to anger, to suspicion. "What are you? Some kind of stalker?"

"I saw you from my car. I was driving to a swim practice. You looked- you looked like- are you okay?" He started to trip over his words as much from nervousness, for it was the second time that he'd spoken to her and mere hours had pasted, and worry.

"I can take care of myself, as you can imagine." She turned her head slightly to reach another page and he saw it. A huge welt was on the side of her face. It hadn't been there on the bus and it looked like it was just starting to form. It was easily going to be black and blue. This horrid injury was polluting the face of the most beautiful girl in the universe, this on the face of which he so longed to touch.

"What happened?" He had to ask. There was no sense avoiding the elephant in the room.

She sighed. Then she looked up at him. That was all it took. Her brown hair had been pulled up into a messy ponytail where certain pieces of hair were escaping the elastic band. They were blowing in the wind across her face in some parts. Her big, beautiful, brown eyes couldn't have been clearer. Something had happened. Something she didn't want to talk about. With that look he understood all he ever wanted to about her. Yet he didn't even know her name.

"You don't have to answer that. Here, let me help." He reached down and started helping her gather the fallen pages. She didn't object. "Where's your car?"

"I don't have one" She said in a clear voice, not wavering once.

"Alright then, come with me. I'll take you home. Where do you live?"

"Wouldn't you already know? Counting you stalk me on a day to day basis. Or did it just start today?" She said, but with a reassuring smile. Her smile was gorgeous. He had never seen anything quite so beautiful. Mona Lisa herself would have felt threatened if she had walked into the same room.

"Unfortunately I'm not that good at what I appear to do. So any help would be phenomenal" he countered. Who was this guy? He was talking to her. Actually talking, not analyzing everything he was going to say before he said it. They reached the car and he held the door open for her. When he got in on the other side he asked which direction.

"I don't want to make you late for your swim practice. I understand the swim teams around here are pretty competitive."

"I can miss a practice. Right or left?"

"Uhm…left" She said in a voice that was unsure of itself. It was the first time she had spoken and not appeared confident of her words. He got worried.

"You do remember where you live right? You don't have amnesia or anything do you? What's your address?"

"It depends" she replied with a far off look on her face.

"What do you mean? I'll take you anywhere. Just tell me where."

"Could I go to your house? I always pass your neighborhood but never know which house is yours. I understand most everyone else goes to a private school in your neighborhood. Yours and the one next to it." She started talking again. Her words and tone reflected those of a little girl who was lost and needed help who was just offered a helping hand.

"Oh, uhm, sure. But won't your parents worry?" He said. He couldn't believe he may actually be taking her to his house. She would meet Sean. She would see where he lived.

"They don't care." She said the statement with absolutely no feeling. It only made him wonder more.

"Hmmm, so you want to come to my house. Now who's the stalker?" He had to get her to smile again. Her smile could be seen from the most distant star in the most distant galaxy.

"Don't flatter yourself." It worked. He got another smile from her. He was still worried about the injury. As he examined her closer at a red light he could see other bruises and marks and scars. Some looked new and some were older. It occurred to him that he had never really seen her face or neck for a long period of time. They were usually covered up by a book. Maybe reading was more than just a mental shield.

"So where do you live? If it's not the neighborhood next to mine, I wouldn't know where. That's the farthest the school zone goes." He said as the light turned green.

"Oh, you know, around." Was all he got.

"So what were you doing at the library? If you write in all your books would they really want them back?" He teased.

"I work there. They give me the really old books that need to be trashed and I bind them using their binder. I work hard on them and eventually they are at least functional."

"A library must be your heaven." He remarked.

"It is. I love books. To get to work around books and be surrounded by intelligent people who have respect for the written word is just exceptional."

"So your shift just ended? Or did you stay around to bind?" He liked talking to her. He loved her outlook on life.

"I only work Saturday and Sunday. I was just doing homework today. One of the nicest women in the world works there on Wednesdays and Thursdays. She had some down time and finished the stack of books I was working on. These are them."

"I see. Well we are almost to my house. I must warn you that my older brother is there. He should behave himself, though. Don't worry." He reassured her.

"This isn't going to be a problem is it?" She suddenly seemed nervous about what she had asked.

"Absolutely not, like I said, don't worry about a thing." He said with a smile. Sean would be downright impressed. His mom wouldn't be home until late and she would have to go before then. "You could probably stay for supper too, if your parents permit it."

"My parents don't care" said with the same enthusiasm as the last time.

They pulled up and he quickly got out to open her door. He also offered to carry the books, but she refused the help. Being as her hands were full, she let him open the door to the house too.

"Sean, I'm home and I brought a friend. Do you mind if she stays for supper?" He bellowed down the hall to his brother's room.

"No problem lil' bro. But I need your help with something really quick. It's the vent in my room again." Was the reply he got. Confused, he made his way to Sean's room with a quick apology as he left her in the kitchen. Sean's vent had never had problems before.

"What do you mean 'again'?" He asked when he arrived at his brother's room.

"Is that _her_?" Sean asked.

"Yes, and she's hurt. I don't know why or how but I'm going to find out. Do you mind if she stays for supper? What were you planning on?" He replied to his brother.

"Dude, you've been watching her for two years. She can move in. And I'll make anything she wants. However, knowing my cooking abilities we may just want a pizza."

As he walked down the hall back to her, a smile spread across his face. He would show her how much he cared tonight. It was perfect.

"I hope I'm not a problem." She said when he returned.

"You're absolutely no problem at all. Is pizza alright? Sean's not much of a cook." He replied.

"I love pizza. That'd be great." She said.

"If you'll follow me upstairs, we can go to the bathroom. I have a first aid kit and I can take a look at your injuries." He offered. To her silence he took a stack of books with pages tucked into the binds. She took the rest and he brought them to his room to put down the books. Then he took her hand in his and led them down the hall to the bathroom. He got the first aid kit and sat her down. "I've been trained in basic first aid. You're in good hands"

She didn't smile. She didn't wince at the pain of the alcohol on her open wounds. He was finding more and more. It was the first time he got a nice, long look at them. There were also cuts that were crusted over on her neck line. He had never seen them because books blocked the line of vision. He worked in silence until he got to the welt. By this time it was red and puffy.

"Who did this?" He demanded. He was angry. No one should have the heart to do this to someone so beautiful. Someone so intelligent. Someone like her.

He didn't expect she'd answer. She was silent this whole time. She had been watching him as he gently, lovingly cleaned her wounds. She figured she owed him something. "It was my boyfriend" she said.

She didn't know how much that hurt him. He almost went limp. Not only had he loved her for years and just found out she's taken. But this piece of scum didn't even treat her right. This wasn't fair. What was he going to do? He wanted to just crawl into a corner and die. How could he be so stupid?

"Well, he's not really my boyfriend anymore. I tried to break up with him today." She said to fill the gap that was now between them. He seemed miles off.

"Tried?" He asked, concern filling his eyes.

"He got mad and…" She turned her head so he could get a full view of the mark on her face. It was swelling like mad now. More than her bruise was swelling, his anger within him. He wasn't about to let someone treat her like this. He would show her what real love is.

"Who is he? If he ever goes near you again, you call me. I promise I won't let anything happen to you." He said before he realized what that meant. He basically let his guard down. Open for attack. He had to brace himself for whatever was coming next.

"Wow, now that's sweet," her voice lathered with sarcasm. She turned back to look at him. "Like I said before, I can take care of myself. I don't need someone to baby me."

"Do your parents know about him?" He asked trying to get back to safer ground.

"I don't know. I don't know anything about my parents and they don't know about me."

"I know that it may feel like you're not connecting, but they try. I'm sure they do." He tried to tell her.

"You don't understand what I'm talking about. I don't know my parents. They left me on the streets as a baby and that's where I've been ever since." She said. These were words that should bring up tears or something. Nothing. Her eyes were like curtains that closed off any vision of her true feelings.

"Who do you live with now?" Was all he could think of to say.

"Whatever hobos find it just to let me share their fire. Well, I usually find a tree or lamp post to sit against and read." She said with no emotion still.

"You read all night?" He asked.

"Sometimes." She replied. He had to get her back to reality.

"You need ice for the welt, that's about all I can do for it." He said. "Taking a shower usually helps clear out any dirt I couldn't get with the wipes. If you want I could put your clothes in the wash and you could borrow some."

"I'm homeless. Not hopeless. I shower every day. I usually have clean clothes. There's this church…they take pity on me." She said. This was good, she was opening up. "But they don't have hot water…" she added as she stared longingly at the shower.

"The towels are in the closet. I'll get you some fresh clothes. Hang on a second." He went to his room and found some sweat pants and a tee shirt of his that might fit. Strike that, it wouldn't, but he didn't think she'd mind. When he returned she was still standing there in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She was examining her neck and bruised cheek.

"I hope these will work for you." He said entering the room. "Take as long as you want. You can just throw your clothes out in the hall and I'll get them in the wash."

She nodded her thanks even if she didn't verbalize them. He shut the door behind him and went into his room. He started looking at the books that had been abolished by who he assumed was the ex boyfriend. He couldn't make sense of what was what and eventually gave up when he heard the shower going. He walked back out to the hall and gathered her clothes. He walked downstairs put the clothes in the wash. He ran into Sean on his way back.

"So what's she like?" Sean asked.

"Complicated, to say the least." He replied.

"Is she taking a shower up there? Are you washing her clothes?"

"Yes and yes. Why?"

"Don't you think you may be going a little fast? I was joking about the moving in thing you know." Sean replied, he seemed genuinely concerned.

"You don't understand. Anyways, I'm going back upstairs." He said before his brother could criticize him further. Upstairs, back in him room he got on the computer. It was 6:30, with luck Chris would be on instant messenger. He quickly typed in his email and password. Chris was online!

You: OMG guess who's in my shower!

Chris: is this the beginning of a lame joke?

You: no its real. _She_ is.

Chris: haha very funny. Now really, whats going on?

You: she is. I can't believe it. I talked to her today on the bus and she actually hated me because I said…omg that makes so much sense now!

Chris: im missing something but okay. So why is she in your shower?

You: she was hurt. Really bad. She needed to wash up.

Eventually he told Chris the whole story. The conversation and everything. By the time he had finished the water had turned off in the bathroom. He said goodbye to Chris and logged off. She had just walked into his room. Her brown hair was matted down with the warm water. She was all but dripping. He thought he had never seen anyone look so beautiful before.

"Listen…I…that…it's just" she started searching for words.

"We're ready to order the pizza. What toppings?" He saved her the trouble of talking.

"Anything is good with me." She said, "I don't want to intrude any longer."

"You are no intrusion. You are a guest. And I am a gentleman so I say the guest picks the toppings. Besides, we're guys, we eat anything." He said with a smile.

"I like meat. A lot of it. All kinds. I think I'm Italian." She said, returning the grin.

He excused himself to go find Sean and ask for one extra large meat lovers for the three of them. Despite his brother's accusations, Sean was still a nice guy and would agree to help him. After Sean ordered the pizza, his little brother got a bag of ice and went back to his room to find her looking at his bookshelf on the wall.

"It's nothing much…just the classics. I'm sure you've read all of them." He startled her. He handed her the bag of ice for her cheek. Once more he marveled at her innocent beauty. Her natural looks. His eyes soaking in all that they could.

"I've never read 'The Secret Garden' actually. The library copy was stolen a long time ago and there isn't enough money to replace it…it's a nonprofit organization."

"That's actually my favorite. Kind of pathetic for a high school guy, but still. What books did you have here?" He asked pointing to the pile of ripped pages and shreds of literature.

"Some of the oldies. Moby Dick, Treasure Island, Anne of Green Gables. The favorite of the stacks was the big one. The Almost Complete Collections of Poe. He was my favorite." She said staring at the book. About a third of the pages were missing, jumbled with the rest.

"This looks like an awfully big disaster. What exactly happened?"

She sighed only once. "He came up to me when I left the library. He had been drinking, that was for sure. He told me that all these books were trash and they were only words. I was infuriated. I shot back at him that only he would know what it is like to live as trash. He laughed in my face and said it takes one to know one. That's when he hit me. I fought back as hard as I could but I had an armful of precious knowledge yet to be learned. One more blow to the head and I was out. I woke up some minutes later to find he had destroyed each book. That's when you rolled up." The whole time she had been staring at his books. Only for the last sentence did she turn to face him. Gazing at him with those eyes that just made him want to melt.

"I hate that that had to happen to you." He said and he meant it. He realized this may be considered 'babying' her but he saw she knew he meant it.

"What do you care? The first words you ever said to me was offering me a sticky note. That was just a few hours ago. You don't know me" She said but he could see behind her eyes that she didn't doubt him for a minute.

"Two years. I've known you for two years. I watched you read on the bus everyday to and from school. Many days it was the highest point for me. I loved to see how involved you could get with an endless stream of words. Your eyes dancing across the page. Your mind somewhere else. It was beautiful. You are beautiful." He finished. He didn't realize he had stepped closer while talking. She was gazing into his eyes with almost a longing. He knew that feeling all too well.

She took a step closer and hugged him. She started to cry. She didn't know why or for what. She was just crying. He could feel her crying. Sobbing was really a more accurate statement. All of her defenses were off. She had let go. She was leaning against him, crying. He was holding her up. They stood like that for a few minutes as she regained her composure. She pulled away slowly as if coming back to reality one inch separated from him at a time. He eyes were red and puffy now. To match her cheek. He leaned down and whispered "You're beautiful when you cry". She looked up at him with an unfamiliar look. It wasn't anger or a shield. Just a look of understanding. He pulled out a chair for her from his desk where the books were piled.

"We've sure got our work cut out for us don't we?" He asked in a more normal tone.

She glanced at him questioningly. "Well if we are going to restore all these books, then I'd say we should better get started." He explained.

She looked at him with a sense of pure wonder and delight. They worked side by side putting the books back together. As they worked, they talked. He told her a little more about him. They also talked about books and knowledge. They talked about the pizza Sean brought up to their room after he took a few pieces. Sean also told them that mom would be working later again and she could stay as long as needed. They worked all night into the morning. At 3:30 am they had finally finished. She had fallen asleep in her chair but he was determined to finish. He did, with the last page going into Poe's collection. He lifted her out of the chair and moved her to the bed. She had awoken slightly and asked the time. "It's past 3 in the morning. You need to sleep. Don't worry, I'll move to the couch." She was too tired to object.

He asked if she'd like him to read to her to help her fall asleep. She quickly turned over in bed to face him. "Would you?" She asked in a small voice.

He went over to the bookshelf and picked the book that he had been planning on. 'The Secret Garden'. He got through chapter one before he was certain she was asleep. He closed the book and set it on the nightstand. He turned the alarm off and looked at the time. It was almost 4 am. He leaned over her and stole a kiss. With that he said good night and headed downstairs to the couch with a blanket in hand.

"It took two years, but it was worth the wait." He whispered aloud to no one in particular. He realized that he didn't even know her name; she didn't know his either. It didn't matter, he loved her and she loved him. A names were only words.


End file.
